Though This Be The Last Pain She Makes Me Suffer
by derevkobristow-spawn
Summary: Written for dollhousefics summer challenge in LJ. Laurence Dominic slept through World War III. Now, he’s awake and they need his help. Hints of DeWitt/Dominic; Spoilers for S1. Borrowed elements from Epitaph One


**Title:** Though This Be The Last Pain That She Makes Me Suffer

**Characters/Pairing: **Laurence Dominic, several OCs, brief mentions of other characters; vague hints of DeWitt/Dominic

**Rating: **PG-13 for language, violence

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Words: **5,193

**Warning:** Character death… sort of.

**Notes: **Spoilers, S1. Borrowed elements from Epitaph One. This is actually a very long prompt. I didn't follow the entirety of it except for the one signified.

**Prompt: **Dominic wakes up in the future

**Summary:** Laurence Dominic slept through World War III. Now, he's awake and they need his help.

~*~*~

Short bursts of pain spikes his skin. His fingertips tingle. An annoying buzz rings in his ears.

"_Whether it's from the NSA or from Alpha makes no difference. It's intended for you to be able to open it; therefore you should be able to open it!"_

There's a flash of bright light. His body gasps for air and his eyes fly open.

The room is dark, save for the light flickering overhead and the glow of the equipment around him.

_Attic._

He tries to sit up, but he finds himself strapped to the chair.

His heart starts to race and dread quickly settles at the pit of his stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut. The last he remembers is being tied to the chair with DeWitt, Topher, Langton and Whiskey looking at him.

"_Whose body is this? Whose body am I in!?"_

His hands curl into a fist. He can tell that this isn't his body. He knows it isn't his. Violently, he tugs his hand from the restraints. The pain is different. He knows how that feels. This pain feels foreign, different.

He waits for someone to greet him. He doesn't want to know who they put him in now. He doesn't want to know how long he's been gone after the last time he was taken out from his box. He doesn't want to know what they want from him. He's not going to help them. And he doesn't give a fuck on what they'll do to him if he refuses to cooperate.

But no one speaks. The only sound in the room is that irritating drone of the sputtering light.

So he opens his eyes, slowly.

And the first thing he sees in front of him is a little boy with a mopful of light brown hair.

He frowns.

The boy takes a step back.

He doesn't really know what to think. So, there's a kid in the imprinting room. Where the hell is that spaz?

He opens his mouth to speak. The little boy suddenly turns away from him, his eyes wide with fear and starts to run out the room, shouting,

"NANA!"

~*~*~

The year is 2018.

The Dollhouse Tech was made public in 2011.

World War III started in 2012, with the Dollhouse technology being used strategically to disable enemy troops.

Three months after World War III started, the tech becomes mobile. The use of remote wiping suddenly becomes indiscriminate.

In less than three weeks, World War III ends. Everybody loses.

But the remote wiping continues.

There are people naturally immune to the signals, but only Echo (or Caroline)'s immunity was compatible for a 'cure'. They created a block, tried their best to distribute it. And because of this, most children born after 2012 are naturally immune to the signal.

However, people who weren't resistant to the signals and were imprinted remotely cannot take the block—according to Topher, their wipes weren't 'clean enough' and their brains wouldn't be able to take it. They needed the Chair for a clean wipe.

It's the main reason why they're having a civil war right now—they have the only existing Chair in the entire continent and everybody who wants to transfer to a body that can withstand the signal wants the Chair. And they just don't want any body—they want to transfer to the bodies of people who weren't affected by the signals. And the Others, those who aren't Actuals… well, they're partially controlling the signal in the city. They have to take them out to take out the signal (or vice versa)

They're the resistance. It's funny to think that more than half of their army consists of former Dollhouse employees (both staff and Actives).

They were winning the war.

But then, six months ago, they started losing.

~*~*~

"And what do you want from me?" He acerbically asks the woman in front of him.

They deserved this. He had warned _her_ of the perils of revealing the tech to the public before they put him in the Attic. It seems no one heeded his warning.

"You're actually the last resort, Mr. Dominic. Or rather, your wedge was."

He stares at the woman who has dark hair and brown eyes, with a horrible-looking bruise on her forehead.

He remembers her name—Hoffman. He met a year before he was wiped, albeit briefly. She was in her mid-twenties, then, and one of the Itinerant Security Officers for Rossum (there were only five of them, if he remembers correctly). He doesn't know her first name; the little boy called her Nana, but he highly doubts that that is her real name,

"You brought this upon yourselves. Why the hell should I help you out?" He says.

Hoffman coolly gazes at him. She looks outside the room for a moment (they aren't in Topher's lab, but it sure looks like it), then looks back at him.

"When you were caught, you told Adelle that you were protecting the Dollhouse, that you were protecting the technology from being abused." She starts. The way she speaks reminds him of DeWitt—must be because of the English accent he's hearing.

"If it weren't for the NSA, we probably wouldn't be here. You see, the reason why the technology was revealed to the public was because of your agency's ineptness."

"The NSA would never—"

She interrupts him, irately. "Fourteen people between the ages of two and sixty were kidnapped five days ago. Intel strongly indicates they're being kept in an NSA facility that was supposedly destroyed in _2008_. I just need a yes or no, Mr. Dominic. I can't waste any more time talking to you while they're out there, probably being lobotomized because they're immune to the signal."

"Nana, what's lo…" he hears a little voice from outside ask, "lo…lololomize?"

Hoffman purses her lips, "Later, darling." She says, answering the child's question but keeping her eyes on him.

He clenches his jaw. "If I help you, what will you do to me—with my brain?" He finally asks. Part of him wants to say no, but he's a little curious on what the world looks like now. It's a rather morbid reason, but he wants to know how bad Rossum screwed up.

Confusion flashes on her face, but she quickly covers it up with a dispassionate expression, "You won't be put back to the shelf, Mr. Dominic. Unless you want to."

~*~*~

There are two camps for the survivors (Actuals, they call themselves… to differentiate themselves from the people they're fighting against). Roughly, there are one thousand Actuals seeking refuge in both camps. There were more out in the city, preferring their little camps, but they coordinate with them. It's what's keeping all of them alive.

There are also two centers of operations for the resistance. Echo—Caroline, Tanaka and Langton are based on the other site (Ballard was one of those 14 people abducted by the Other side).

Alpha (of all people) designed the security of their camps. The signal cannot penetrate the compound and any non-Actual can be remotely (and cleanly) wiped if they come within 20 feet of the place.

Michael and Priya – Victor and Sierra – are in this camp. Together with Hoffman and Parker (who used to be Head of Security of the Dollhouse branch in Manhattan) they comprise the core group that strategizes the attacks on their enemy.

Topher went insane from the guilt, but had managed to rebuild the Chair. He has his good days, but recently, he's been spiraling downwards.

He doesn't ask whose body he's in, but he was told that the body was that of an infiltrator and it was why he can't really go outside the room.

He doesn't ask about his real body.

He doesn't ask about to Adelle DeWitt either.

~*~*~

"What you doing?"

It's been two days after he was brought back and he's stuck with the little boy.

Hoffman had something important to attend to and she can't bring him along. There are guards outside the door and are very much willing to shoot him if he does something to the kid.

He stops studying the salvaged blueprints of the facility (how anyone managed to find this is beyond him) and glances at the child. He's wearing a yellow hard hat that's too big for his head, and he's curiously staring at the papers on the table.

"I'm working." He answers and turns his attention back to the blueprints.

"What you working?" the boy asks. He has a funny accent— it's like he spends too much time with Hoffman but is still trying to imitate how everybody else talks.

"I'm working on a plan." He says, not looking at him.

"Why?"

This is one of the things he doesn't like when he's around children. The incessant whys. Why is the sky blue, why do cows have spots, why do we need to sleep, why do we need to eat vegetables… why, why, why… sometimes, the questions make him stop and think and he doesn't want to think about anything else but this blueprint right now.

After a few minutes he glances to his side again and found the boy watching him intently, waiting for an answer. He realizes that he doesn't know his name.

"What's your name, kid?" he asks.

"Jamie." The boy answers. A frown appears on his face and after a few seconds, peers at him with his large green eyes, "What's your name?"

He leans slightly towards the child. There's a splotch of dirt on his cheek, "Laurence."

"Rorence." the boy repeats.

"Yeah, Laurence." He says, noting how the boy can't really pronounce his R's. "So. How old are you, Jamie?" he asks and lightly touches the hat on the boy's head, "And who gave you that hat?"

"I'm four and daddy gave me my hat before he went away."

"Where did you dad go?"

Jamie shrugs his shoulders, "Mama says he'll come back."

His brows furrows. He had assumed he was Hoffman's kid, "Wait, Nana isn't your… mama?"

"No." the boy straightens up, as if he's offended at the thought, "Nana isn't Mama. The big men took Mama away. Nana said Mama will come back."

He looks at the child for a good long second. He suddenly feels uncomfortable.

"Uh, why don't you play with your toys again?" Jamie's toys consist of a wooden car, a plastic ring and a ratty blue rabbit.

The boy blinks at him, "mmkay."

Before he goes back to work, he watches Jamie as he sits by a cot a few feet away from him and starts to play quietly.

~*~*~

They communicate with the other camp via carrier pigeons.

It was the SOP. They don't use the radios, even if they're protected from the signal. They don't want to risk it. They use tech as minimally as possible.

It's the smartest move they made so far. One that they'll continue to make use of, even after they've stopped the signal.

~*~*~

He wakes up to the sound of a child screaming for his mother.

He grumbles and covers his head with the very thin pillow. He then hears a pair of feet shuffling and then, a soft, exasperated sigh.

"Jamie." He hears Hoffman say, "Darling, what's wrong?"

"Mama!"

"Mama's not here."

Hoffman tries to soothe the boy, but to no avail. He continues wailing.

"Shhh, Jamie." From the direction of boy's cries, he can tell that Hoffman had lifted the boy up from the cot.

"Mama. I want mama."

"Mama's not here, darling. But she'll be here. She's going to come back." Hoffman says, "She's going to come back, darling. Please. Please stop crying."

After a few minutes, the boy finally does stop. Hoffman sighs once again and he hears her go to the cot and settle there.

He can't understand how people still want to bring children into this world. The perils of this society became just a bit more abstract— how can they protect their children from the intangible concept of signals? How can they fully protect their children's memories and their minds when they can't even fully protect themselves from it?

"Mama and Daddy come back?" the boy asks, in between sobs.

"Yes. Soon."

~*~*~

They were able to create a good strategy from the information he gave them.

Langton leads a team to retrieve the kidnapped Actuals. There'd been rumors that the Other side has been lobotomizing the ones naturally resistant to the signal to figure out how their bodies do it.

The operation was slightly successful. They got back 8 people back (most of them children) out of those 14.

They weren't able to get Ballard back, though.

Hoffman isn't pleased with the result. And from what he's hearing, neither are the others. They keep on planning, keep on strategizing. They're mostly about how they can block the signal in the city. Alpha and Topher are working on it, they say. But Topher's getting worse and even though Alpha's several geniuses, they still need Topher.

Vic—Michael's working on a separate strategy. It's a rescue plan and everybody seems to be invested in it, especially Hoffman.

When he asks about it (offhandedly, of course), she tells him it's about Ballard, the six other people he was with, and the others who were kidnapped from six months ago.

He knows he's not getting the whole story.

~*~*~

The second month after he was brought back, Hoffman brings him outside. There were a few people who stared at him when he walked alongside her. He ignored them.

"Are you sure it's safe to be out here?" the harsh glare of the sun makes him squint and he uses his hands to shade the light. The skies are bluish, white, and he can feel the gloominess of his surroundings.

"We're within the compound." Hoffman answers and sits on a rock, "People come out, once in a while. Living underground takes its toll sometimes, especially on the children."

He looks around. There's a mountain behind them and trees encircle them. This is the safer camp of the two.

He breathes in deeply. The air is different. It's fresher, with a little less despair. He then walks around, touches the grass, the ground and picks up a stone.

He looks at her. She was quite attractive, he remembers. She still is, but he can also see exhaustion and age on her face.

"I don't see it. The destruction, the end of the world." He starts, "I'm helping you with your strategies, but I don't see what I'm fighting against. I want to see it."

"Trust me, you don't want to." She says.

"What if I want to? What if I want to see what DeWitt did, what Clive Ambrose did, what you did. What if I want to see what the Dollhouse did to the world?" He says, letting malice seep in is tone.

Hoffman looks at him wearily, "Are you sure?" she asks.

"Yeah."

~*~*~

She brought him to one of the recons.

He had an AK-47 with him and two handguns.

He remembered the billowing smoke, the fire, the group of crazies that went after them when they tripped an alarm. He remembered how everything was just so messed up.

Then he remembered the people—the one who were wiped.

Remembered how they blankly looked at them.

Remembered how they were slaughtered by the crazies.

Remembered the bodies.

He closes his eyes. Fear, anger and coldness just envelopes him. He can't think straight, he can't focus.

He dreams of it every night after that.

~*~*~

Jamie patiently and quietly waits as he folds the paper into an airplane.

They've gone out again, with no one to watch over the kid. He finds it strange that Hoffman was willing to trust the kid to him. The only other person she trusts with the boy is Parker.

He gives the paper airplane to the boy. Jamie's face lights up and he immediately makes it fly across the room.

It actually keeps him busy for half an hour. He sits on one of the cots and watches as Jamie runs from one point of the room to another, throwing the folded-up paper, making weird sounds.

Afterwards, the boy plops down beside him.

"Planes fly in the sky." Jamie announces.

"Yes, they do."

"Mama says you need a plane to get to London."

He nods his head, "Yes. You need to ride a plane."

Jamie folds his hands in front of him and tilts his face to look at him, "Where you from, Rorence?"

"Uh." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. It's not as if the boy knows who this body is, "I'm from Chicago." He says.

"Mama's from London."

A chuckle escapes him, "You mean, _Nana's_ from London."

The boy shakes his head vigorously, "No." he says, "Mama's from London. Mama said she… she had to ride a plane from London to get here. And she said it made whooshy sounds when it lands." Jamie makes a whizzing sound and uses his hand to imitate how a plane flies.

He stiffens and stares at the child in horror. The child looks back at him with wide green eyes and gives him a bedimpled smile.

He swallows the dread that got lodged in his throat. "What's your daddy's name?"

The boy frowns. He feels the urge to let out a hysterical laugh. He should have figured it out the first time he was alone with the kid. Of _course_ she'd trust him with the kid.

"Daddy." Jamie answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the planet.

He ruffles the boy's hair, "Yeah, of course that's his name."

~*~*~

He asks Hoffman who Jamie's parents are.

She turns away from him as if she didn't hear the question.

He asks her if they're alive.

She doesn't give him any answer.

~*~*~

Four months after he was brought back, he gets his answers.

He's watching over Jamie for the nth time in a month when suddenly, the boy squeals in delight.

"Mama!"

He turns around and sees Hoffman and Michael entering the room with a tall brunette (all seem to be covered with grime and what seems to be blood). Jamie runs past him and goes towards the woman.

He blinks. And freezes.

It's as if someone stopped time and all he can see is her. Adelle DeWitt. She's here. She's alive. She's okay. She has a son. Jamie's her son. She's alive.

He can't really think of anything else.

He watches as she tightly embraces the little boy, watches as her body starts to shake from crying, watches as she laughs through her tears at what Jamie said.

He feels his chest tightening. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

A hand touches his shoulder. He glances to his side and finds Hoffman looking at him. There are smudges of dirt on her face and there's a large white gauze covering part of her neck.

"Let's go grab some air." She says.

She walks beside him. They don't talk, not until they've gone up. The moon is full, and there's not a single cloud up in the sky.

"Does she know?" he asks, finally. His chest is starting to hurt and his eyes are stinging with tears. That woman was the reason why he lost ten years of his life and why he woke up to this nightmare. But he couldn't bring himself to hate her. And he doesn't know why.

"I haven't told her yet."

"Don't." he says forcefully. He makes himself breathe, "Don't tell her."

"She's going to figure it out." she answers, "If I don't tell her and she figures it out, I don't really know what she'll do to me."

"You'll live." He replies. He looks Hoffman, glares at her, "Don't tell her."

Hoffman sighs and shakes her head slightly, "All right."

~*~*~

DeWitt is still the leader, even in this camp. They don't fear her as much, but she still has command over everybody.

And ever since she came back, Topher's having more of his good days. They're almost done with the problem, almost done figuring out how to block the signal over a very large area.

He's still helping with the strategies, helping Michael and Parker with training the people. But he tries to avoid her, as much as possible. He even avoids Jamie, to the little boy's confusion.

He's going to face her, sooner or later. He knows he can't avoid her forever.

He wishes he can, though.

~*~*~

A month after she got back to the camp, she finally corners him.

He was sitting outside, drinking from a bottle of moonshine. His drinking buddy, Hoffman, had gone inside to check on Parker (who had taken a leak).

DeWitt sits beside him.

He doesn't look at her. He doesn't say anything either. He knows that she knows.

"How's Jamie?" he asks after a while.

"He's alright. Sleeping." She answers. She then takes the bottle from him and takes a drink.

They sit in silence—something they were very good at. He watches her through the corner of his eyes. She's older, thinner, paler. He wants to think that this is the same woman who coolly watched as he was being wiped, except that this one knows how to shoot people and is now raising a four-year-old boy. But he knows better.

He has questions. How does it feel to end the world, he wants to ask. How does it feel to be burdened by the guilt? How does it feel to have so many people dependent on you for their survival? Why bring a kid into a nightmare she created? And how does that make her feel—to know that she destroyed her child's future?

"How are you, Ms. DeWitt?" he asks instead.

A mirthless chuckle, "I'm a ball of contradicting emotions right now, Mr. Dominic." She says, taking another drink from the bottle, "And how about you? I assume you're quite…angry. After all, you were pulled into this little mess and not in your own body."

"Little mess?" This time, he looks at her, incredulously, "The end of the world is a _little_ mess?" he asks and shakes his head. He then takes the bottle from her and takes another drink. He keeps his eyes on her, "What will you tell your son when he asks you why the world is like this?"

Her expression turns pensive.

"I don't know." She finally says, looking away from him.

He doesn't say anything. Neither Hoffman nor Parker had come back. It's either DeWitt talked to them about this, or they didn't want to intrude… or they're doing something else, he really doesn't know.

A soft breeze blows the hair away from his face. The leaves on the trees rustle.

"Who's Jamie's dad?" he asks after what seemed like an eternity.

She sits up a little bit straighter. "No one told you?" she asks back, looking at him.

"No one wanted to tell me." He replies. He actually asked the group before— on the third month, he thinks, during one of their meetings. No one answered him. They can't even look at him.

"I guess you know the answer, then."

"Do you love him?" he asks. They have a kid; they must have formed some sort of attachment to each other at some point.

Her stare pierces him.

"We're two different people, Ms. DeWitt." He clarifies. He refuses to call her by her first name, "I'm Laurence Dominic, circa 2009. Jamie's father is… well, let's just say he's been by your side for more than three years." He shrugs, "What you did to me is still very fresh in my memory, but it probably doesn't bother him anymore. And I know he never hated you. Because I never did."

He knows she doesn't want to answer. She can very well walk away this instant and not answer the question. But somehow, he knows that she will.

She draws in a deep breath then lets it out. Her shoulders sag, "Yes, I do. I love him… very much. And it hurts every day that he isn't here." She says. He can see tears forming in her eyes and she turns her head away.

"Is he still alive?"

"I don't know." She answers, "God, I hope so."

~*~*~

Six months after he was brought back, Topher and Alpha found a solution to their problem.

Then Caroline finds a major flaw on the other side's defenses, one that they can exploit to their advantage.

Plans are made. People are armed.

They attack. People from both sides die.

The next thing he knows, the signal in LA is gone. The Others are neutralized.

And he comes face to face with himself.

~*~*~

He has a beard—a really thick, bushy beard and his hair have more grays than blond. There's also a long, deep scar on his face and he's thin. So thin, in fact, that he had feared Hoffman will break him in two with her embrace. But his blue eyes are still sharp, still alert.

"Adelle and Jamie." He says. It didn't surprise him that those were the first two words that came out of his mouth, "Are they okay?" He asks.

"Yes, they are." Hoffman answers, "Jamie will be so happy to see you." She says.

Laurence Dominic begins to tremble, "They're really okay?"

"Yeah." Hoffman's voice breaks a little, "They're all right."

This time, he embraces Hoffman, "Thanks for breaking me out, Hoff."

"Don't thank me. Thank him." She says, motioning towards him, "He's the one who found you."

"Anthony?" His self turns towards him and embraces him too, "Thank you." he whispers, "Thank you."

He then realizes he's been holding his breath. He pats his shoulders, albeit a little awkwardly.

"No problem, man."

Laurence Dominic pulls away from him. He smiles, excitedly.

"Let's go home, people."

~*~*~

He watches from a distance the little family reunion.

He must admit that it hurt him a little.

It's bizarre.

He's jealous of himself.

~*~*~

There's a party of sorts, but instead of a bonfire and lots of drinking aboveground, it's just a lot of noises and lots of eating underground.

He sits alone, outside. He really can't bear to be with too many people.

"You're drinking alone again?"

Hoffman sits beside him. He hands the bottle to her. For the first time in six months, he sees her grin.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he asks.

"My boyfriend?" she asks back.

"Parker."

She makes a face and closes her eyes for a bit, "Hmm. Ballard's talking to him."

"So, he's really your boyfriend?"

She opens her eyes and takes drink of the moonshine, "I think we're bit too old for that term." She says and gives the bottle back to him.

They sit in silence. The past few months, he found her surprisingly comfortable to be with. She's actually very good company, when she's not angry. Or hungry. Or both.

"It's a victory for us. LA's safe. No signal." She remarks. "Tomorrow, we make it safer. Clean it up, I guess."

"What are you planning to do with the Others?"

"Well, Caroline suggested that we give them the bodies they have. Topher or whoever— most probably me— will put them in a wedge, make a clean wipe on the bodies and put them back on. Give them a block, let them live their lives anew." She answers, "But it's going to be a little bit more complicated than that. For one thing, there's the problem of genderswapping, if you know what I mean."

"I do."

"But I think it's a good idea. We'll see tomorrow."

He nods his head. He then plays with the little stones under his shoe. "I have a confession to make." He says after a few minutes.

"I'm not a priest, Dominic."

"I don't want to live." He says, "Anymore. Here, in this body. I have enough of it."

Hoffman gapes at him, "What are you talking about?"

He smiles resignedly, "That was actually pretty straightforward." He says, "There can't be two Laurence Dominics, Hoffman. And it's obvious who's got to go."

"What do you mean?" Confusion and distress is starting to show on her face, "Why?"

"Hoffman, I know that you know I'm a copy. The real Laurence Dominic is alive—"

"—but you're real too."

"Listen to me first, okay? We have the same experiences, except mine has gap between 2009 and 2018. I'm in a body of thirty-something-year old man while my age is supposed to be that of a fifty-one year old. I want the same things as Laurence Dominic wants—"

"—but that's because you're also Laurence Dominic."

"And that's my point. We'll clash, Hoffman. And he'd win because he's in his… my body. And besides, the only thing I want, he already has." He looks at her, waits for her to understand his reason.

She observes him, "You really think you're just a copy?"

"Yes."

Her face falls. "And you really want to die?"

He nods his head, "Yeah."

"I can have the Chair ready—"

"No." he firmly says, "No wedge, no Chair. I want to die for real."

She stares at him for a very long time. There was a point wherein he started to think that what he said might have caused in her an aneurysm.

"I can't think of anything to stop you." Her whole body seems to deflate, "This is insane." She focuses on him. Her brows furrow. "Your mind's made up."

"It's been made up for weeks."

She stares at him again.

"I'm sorry." She says. "Promise me you won't kill yourself tonight."

"I promise."

"And promise that you'll say goodbye to the others. Especially to Jamie."

"I can't tell the kid I'm going to kill myself." He says.

"Why would you tell him that." she brushes the strands of hair away from her face, "Tell him you can't stay. He's four, but I think he can understand that." She pulls her knees towards her chest then frowns at him, "You know what. I think I've just breezed through the five stages of grief. I never even felt anger." she says.

He chuckles and takes another drink from the bottle.

"You're good company, Hoffman." He says.

"Thanks." She smiles at him, sadly this time, "You're not too shabby yourself."

~*~*~

Three days after that conversation, he takes a hike, up in the mountains.

He did what he promised to do. He said goodbye to everybody who knew who he was.

He said goodbye to Jamie.

The boy asked why. And Adelle answered for him. _"Because he can't stay, sweetheart."_

He treks the mountain for a day.

When the sun had set, he sits under a large oak tree. He pulls out the handgun Parker had given him a few months back, and puts it in his mouth.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"_Yes, I do. I love him… very much. And it hurts every day that he isn't here."_

He pulls the trigger.


End file.
